


XCOM: War Never Changes

by ArtofLupin



Category: XCOM (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22035637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtofLupin/pseuds/ArtofLupin
Summary: A soldier's private reflections.
Kudos: 3





	XCOM: War Never Changes

_‘War. War never changes_.’

At least that's what my grandpa used to say back when I was a kid. Though, I’d wonder what he would say if he were still alive to see all… this.

Some call us the ‘Last Defence,’ ‘Humanity’s Harbingers,’ even heard the term ‘saviors’ thrown around a few times. Still, others call us boat-rockers or terrorists. Traditionalists, afraid of change or a new world. Though I doubt those morons would be singing the same tune if they’d seen the side of this war I have. That my brothers and sisters in arms have.

Though, I still take issue with terms like ‘savior’ all the same. It makes me sound like I’m supposed to be an angel out of heaven meant to bring down some sort of divine retribution upon these invader-fucks’ heads. When in reality I’m just some factory-hand that’s had enough. Hell, I’m a high-school dropout. Doubt I could even spell ‘ _divine retribution_ ’ if I tried. Truth is, I figured if I was going to die, I might as well be doing it fighting back.

It’s times like these, the quiet moments, that I get the antsiest on this flying tin-can. That’s the thing they don’t tell you about in recruitment. How fucking boring war is most of the time. It's all just a lot of hurry up and wait. Waiting for orders. Waiting for the enemy to make a move. Wait, wait, and more waiting.

Being a member of ‘ _Humanity_ _’_ _s Last Defence_ ’ - or as we have taken to calling ourselves - XCOM, sounds real sexy at first. Living life on the run. Crossing the planet in a giant air-ship my pops couldn’t imagine in his wildest dreams. Making contact with local resistances and taking the fight to Advent’s fucking door-step for a change. But the romance of war quickly washes away when you watch your best friend’s head explode from a well-placed plasma ray, courtesy of the opposite side.

Poor asshole couldn’t have seen it coming. She and I were crouched behind a cement wall in a retail district, outdoor mall or somethin’. Then there was the crunch of broken glass under a heavy boot on the other side of the wall, followed by a bright green flash. When I opened my eyes I saw only a cloud of red mist where her head used to be. Her body sunk limply onto the cold tile floor beneath us.

Maybe that’s what gramps meant. Doesn’t matter what the war is fought over or with what weaponry. Shit ends the same. In tragedy. In war, no one wins.

But there I go again, philosophisin’ like I know a damn. I’m just some two-bit trooper with an axe to grind. I don’t know nothin’ other than how to shoot a gun straight. But it’s times like these - the quiet times - when you only have the creaking and revving of the ship for company. _That’s_ when the real war is fought.

When all you can do is reflect and think. Think about whether or not what you’re doing is worth it. If you picked the right side in the end or if you’re just playing yourself for the fool. Then you realize it don’t matter in the end. At some point, you got to pick a side and lay in the bed you made.

Times like this, I’m reminded of my grandpa. Sitting in that old creaky rocking chair, puffing on his stinky corncob pipe. Talking down to us kids like he was some sort of oracle, just cus he saw some shit when he was young.

Times like this, I’m reminded someday I’ll be my grandpa. Least, if I’m lucky. Hopefully, I’ll have a day when I’m smoking a thick wad of stinky tobacco tellin’ my kids of days gone by. They’ll roll their eyes at me and say I’m just from a different time. I pray that’s the future I’ll get to have.

In the meantime, it’s just me and the ghost of my old man. Sittin.’ Thinkin.’ His words rolling around my head like a possessed wrecking ball.

 _‘War. War never changes._ _’_

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thanks for reading my XCOM Fanfic!
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments. If you enjoyed it, consider checking one of my many other short stories on my website!
> 
> Want to receive regular updates on my works - including updates on my original works like ‘Neo,’ a cyberpunk-themed mystery series - submit your email to MarkLupinWrites@gmail.com and I’ll get you on my mailing list!
> 
> Thanks!
> 
> Website: ArtofLupin.com
> 
> Email: MarkLupinWrites@gmail.com
> 
> Twitter: @ArtofLupin


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